


in a voice so small (i have poison in my veins)

by blue_flowers



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian Wayne is Not Robin, Damian is sad, Gen, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_flowers/pseuds/blue_flowers
Summary: He knows he messed up. He knows it's his fault. He knows.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	in a voice so small (i have poison in my veins)

He stalked down the street, throwing pieces of the uniform off every few steps, the R emblem resting at his father’s feet. Hot anger filled his soul as he thought of his father’s words. _It has to stop. This isn’t you._ He didn’t know him! He didn’t know him at all! Didn’t care about him, still blamed him, was still blaming him! _Step step_. One glove hits the ground, nearly into the gutter. _I don’t know what brought you to this._ How could he not see? They had to pay, he did what he had to do. _Step step_. The other lands in a garbage can as he walks past. _I_ ** _have_** _failed. I failed you._ He didn’t...he was to blame. _Step step_. His hands reached up to the clasp of his cloak, fumbling to undo it. He remembered what Father had said as he had run out after trying to open up, to _apologize_. _Damian knows he’s welcome here. He knows there’s...no blame._ It was all lies though, they all blamed him. They had to, their reactions spoke enough volume for him. _Step step step_. **_Because I love you Damian._** No, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t. He couldn’t, not after all that he had done. He faltered in his step, hands still upon the clasp. His fingers were numb, he couldn’t feel the metal under them. He could still feel them behind him, could still feel them judging him, silently vilifying him. He hated it. He hated all of them. Forgetting the cloak for now, he began to run. He couldn’t stand it anymore, he couldn’t be here, couldn’t look at them and know how much he had messed up, how much they hated him now. He couldn’t help it, he knew he hadn’t responded to anything correctly, he didn’t know why he acted the way he did. He could guess and maybe that guess would be correct, but he was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know what to **_do_**. 

He stumbled. He fell. He knew he could pick himself up but it seemed to him that maybe he deserved to stay there on the ground, that maybe he belonged there, amongst the trash and the filth. He had been doing what he had thought to be right. He knew it wasn’t what Father had wanted for him, would not be what Pen-  **_no_ ** . Squeezing his eyes shut, he couldn’t. It hurt too much to even think of his name. He knew he was at fault, for that, for this, for everything that had been going wrong lately. It was all his fault. He had pushed and pulled and had nothing left to show for it but an empty void. That he had pushed too far should not have surprised him, in the end. It should not have been the slap in the face that it was, to be pushed away and left alone. It was what he deserved after all. 

Putting his arms under him, he pushed himself up. Shakily, he pushed and pushed until he was sitting up. He looked up at the cool night sky. Sound rushed back to him as he gazed up at the starless sky. It was so empty and meaningless, he missed being able to look up and see the endless expanse of stars in the sky, missed when he was small enough for Mother’s affection, to be held by her as she pointed out all the constellations, whispering their stories and legends to him. He missed her. She would not accept him though, he had too much of his father’s teachings in him to be accepted by her, but not enough to be accepted by the man himself. He was trapped, lost with no direction to go. Stuck. 

His fingers once again rose to his cloak, fumbling once again at the clasp. He managed to undo it this time, the cloak fell to the ground, the heavy weight removed. His skin buzzed as he stumbled to his feet, his balance leaving him momentarily without the dragging weight behind him. Was this freedom, or his new death sentence? Had he shucked a chain, or an anchor?  _ Step step step step _ . He didn’t know, but it mattered not, either he would sink, drown in his own shame and failure, or he would rise and learn to fly on his own. As much as he wanted to run back and scream and beg forgiveness, he knew he couldn’t, not just yet at least, he had to leave it behind. It just wasn’t for him. 


End file.
